


Swan Song

by strawberriez8800



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: 4x06 Slight Spin-Off, Angst, Lots of Angst, M/M, Pining, Tommy and Alfie in the boxing arena waiting room, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23850265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberriez8800/pseuds/strawberriez8800
Summary: Tommy—ever silent yet all too fucking loud in the sadness of his blue, blue eyes—was the only sound in the room as far as Alfie was concerned.In 4x06 when Alfie visits Tommy before the boxing match. Slight spin-off of the scene.
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	Swan Song

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was watching 4x06 again, and that opening scene with Alfie and Tommy in the back room of the boxing arena… Tommy's expressions throughout that whole scene when Alfie was speaking to him, oh my fucking god, it's all too much.  
> And, and…! At the end there, when Tommy GRABBED Alfie's hand when he asked him to stay and watch the match… FEELINGS. TOO MANY FEELINGS. I didn't even notice the hand-grab the first time I watched this. That was a VERY CONSCIOUS decision, Tommy.
> 
> Anyway, all of these feelings drove me to write this little thing.
> 
> (My mind has been taken over by these two. H e l p.)

The distant cheer in the boxing arena was simply that—distant, like an afterthought.

For Alfie, all that had been and all that was would be an afterthought soon enough. He could be patient for once; he would certainly have more time than he’d know what to do with in the afterlife.

So, he sought Tommy out on the evening of what was very much his farewell letter to a life he would not miss. The real goodbye would come a little later—at Margate, amidst its soft breeze and warm sand and breaking waves.

But here, now, there was Alfie, and there was Tommy.

And Tommy—ever silent yet all too fucking loud in the sadness of his blue, blue eyes—was the only sound in the room as far as Alfie was concerned.

Tommy listened, clung to every word Alfie was saying; Alfie thought, with not a little melancholy, in a different life they could’ve been so much more, and it would’ve been so fucking _easy._

As it was—well, there wasn’t much point in dwelling now, was there?

But if he was going to dwell on one last thing, he was going to make it count; a last wish, one could say, however fucking maudlin it was.

“I will see you, Tommy, by the pier.”

Tommy stared up at him, cigarette dangling idly on his mouth. His aloof exterior had all but receded as Alfie stood before him, and Tommy’s expression softened into what was almost—pleading, or as close to it as one could witness from Tommy Shelby.

Tommy reached out and took Alfie’s hand. The force of his grip surprised Alfie somewhat, and the heat of his touch through Alfie’s glove felt to him shockingly intimate. The bastard was indeed so near the bloody edge; they could fall together if Tommy would let himself.

Fat fucking chance of that, though, with Tommy and his head so full of big, big dreams.

“Stay and watch the fight, Alfie?” Tommy asked, and it was the only thing he had asked of Alfie that didn’t pertain to business.

Alfie didn’t stay, even if he’d come to realise he hated saying no to Tommy.

“Cheer up,” Alfie said on his way out, unsure if Tommy would even hear him. Then again, Tommy did always seem to have an unnerving sense of _awareness_ whenever they were in the same room.

Tommy had heard him, after all; more than that, he came after Alfie and there was a glint in his eyes that verged on panic as he said, “Alfie, wait.”

Stopping in his tracks, Alfie was caught between a flash of impatience at the absurdity of it all and a nonsensical relief at Tommy’s reluctance in parting. He turned around. “What is it, Tommy? Come on, spit it out.”

Tommy closed the distance between them in three long strides, and—with all the certainty and longing and things left unsaid fused into one action—he leaned his forehead against Alfie’s, eyes fluttering shut. In the space of a few heartbeats, they remained still, breathing the air between them, with Tommy holding Alfie and Alfie letting him.

Alfie wondered if he had died sometime in the last three minutes and stumbled into whatever the fuck this was—

But this was—this was nice.

So he gave Tommy what he could, which wasn’t much, but what the fuck; closing what little gap that remained, Alfie brushed his lips against Tommy’s, and it was the most gentle thing he had done in, fuck, ever since he could remember.

Tommy returned the kiss without hesitation and with equal softness. His lips were cold and chapped in the chill, yet when they moved against Alfie’s they left a warm path of wistfulness in their wake, subdued and tender and all too fucking fanciful.

Alfie wondered if this was how Tommy kissed all the star-struck women in his life and found himself genuinely curious, though he didn’t ask; a way to ruin the moment that would be, and wasn’t it a fucking shame they didn’t have many moments left to ruin?

Alfie didn’t know how much time had passed, only that it had—rather quickly—when Tommy broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against Alfie’s shoulder, gripping his arm with too much yearning that, for a moment, Alfie hated him for it, for breathing life into this—this _thing_ and making Alfie realise—no, perhaps he did not want to die after all.

“I will see you by the pier, Alfie,” Tommy breathed against Alfie’s shoulder, and just like that he pulled away and went back inside the building.


End file.
